Same Time Next Year
by Archilochus
Summary: Arnold doesn't seem to have much luck at French restaurants. He goes to the Chez Paris with Lila on Valentine's Day, and is spurned just like last year. And once again, he meets with Helga. This time however, she is undisguised.


Arnold was sitting by himself, the only person occupying a table in the Chez Paris' patio. He sighed as he rested his cheek against his palm. Through a window, he could see Lila standing in front of a booth and talking to a boy who looked like he was in high school. _A good three years older than her_, Arnold thought glumly. He aimlessly stirred the ice cubes floating around in his cherry soda. Lila had said she was going to the bathroom and would be back "ever so soon." This was nearly twenty minutes ago. Now, belly rumbling with hunger, Arnold was starting to think that Lila might not come back after all. His fears were confirmed when he saw Lila finally sit down with the boy. She appeared utterly engrossed in their conversation, completely oblivious to the fact that the person she had come to the restaurant with in the first place was waiting for her.

"Are you two weady for your…wait a meen-it?" Arnold's thickly accented waiter, Jacques had come back to Arnold's table, but was now confused when he saw that only one of the preteens remained. Jacques' head turned left, right, up and down, trying to figure out where the red-headed one had gone. "Where eez your leetle fwend?" Jacques peered quizzically at Arnold. When he saw the football-headed boy's expression, his own face dawned with comprehension. "Ah, I see. Le woman took off." Jacques snorted in disgust. "There eez no gweater cwime in theese world then to desert a chah-ming young man such as yourself. Young love eez so deef-ee-calt. I know. I waz once a young man ma-self." Jacques sat himself down at Arnold's table. _Lila's seat_, Arnold thought.

"Come Monsieur," Jacques said, handing a menu over to Arnold. "Peek anytheeng you like. Tonight eet eez on thee house." Arnold, ignoring his gurgling stomach, shook his head slowly and handed the menu back to Jacques.

"Thanks Jacques, but I saved up for months so that I could afford a dinner for two tonight, and now that I have no one to share it with …I don't feel like eating here anymore." Arnold gazed sadly through the window at Lila, who was laughing at something her new dinner date was saying. "Maybe I'll give the money to my grandma and grandpa…I don't think they've ever been here before. I bet they'd like it." Arnold rose from his seat, fully intent on leaving and having leftovers from what grandma had made earlier that evening at the Boarding House.

"Wait!" Jacques exclaimed. He rushed over to Arnold and grabbed the boy by the shoulders. "You can get a fwee desert too! I'll even thwo in a fwee soup and salad! I'll pay for eet out of ma' paycheck! Please don't leave!" Jacques seized the lapels of Arnold's sport coat and buried his face in the boy's shirt, weeping pathetically. Arnold gently pushed the Frenchman off him.

"I'm sorry if I offended you Jacques. I appreciate your generosity, but there's just no way I can eat a dinner here tonight."

"Too bad footballhead, cuz now that I'm here ya don't get a choice!" Arnold froze as he spotted Helga G. Pataki, clad in pink from head to toe, push Jacques into the next aisle and promptly sit down in Lila's old seat. She slung her pink purse off her shoulder and plopped it onto the table. Jacques meanwhile gaped on in shock.

"Helga?" Arnold uttered, quite surprised. Helga crossed her legs and shot Arnold her winningest grin.

"In the flesh footballhead." Helga turned to Jacques and snapped her fingers. "Hey waiter, two orders of that cat-brains and eggs stuff you guys make." Jacques stood still for a second before scrambling to his feet and straightening with renewed vigor.

"Wight away Madame!" Jacques walked briskly into the restaurant, struggling to contain his excitement. Arnold watched the Frenchman whisk away, feeling thoroughly confused. He then looked back at Helga. She briefly raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment.

"So footballhead, how've ya been?" Helga asked. She spotted the glass of water sitting to her right, and before Arnold could say anything, took a quick slug of it. She wiped off her moist mouth with her sleeve, making a loud "ahhh" sound. A million emotions flurried through Arnold chest.

"Okay I guess," he said. What are you doing here?" Helga shrugged.

"Ah, my dad had some business meeting to take care of, and I guess everyone was bringing their families or something 'cause he dragged me and Miriam along too. I got bored so I decided to take a walk around, and lo and behold, I found you here. Just don't get all excited and everything hairboy, I would've talked to Brainy rather than listen to a bunch of old farts gas on about beepers."

Arnold nodded. The tightness in his chest lightened somehow, and once again the world seemed to make sense. Big Bob was a pretty big business figure in the local area, and Chez Paris was probably one of the best places in town to take clients. Still, there was something that Arnold couldn't quite put his finger on.

"But Helga, today's Valentine's day." Helga shrugged again.

"So, what's your point?" Arnold chewed his lip.

"Well, shouldn't you be doing something…I don't know, special on Valentines day?" Helga's cheeks reddened for a moment before her trademark scowl returned.

"This _is _special footballhead! Dinner at the Chez Paris, that's fancy shmancy stuff! Whaddya want, a voucher for a free meal at the Italian _Garden_!" Arnold now felt himself blush.

"No, I was just saying-"

"Miriam cooks a good dinner about four times a year buster, so when Helga G. Pataki gets the opportunity to chow on some good grub, she takes it!" Arnold tried his best not to roll his eyes. It was always the same with Helga; that, he could count on. He raised his hands in surrender.

"'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you!" Arnold crossed his arms. Through the window, Lila was in the middle of some regaling story. She was waving her hands all over while her dinner date was nodding and laughing, taking an occasional sip of sparkling water.

"What's with you?" Helga asked. "Why do you keep looking off to the side like that?" Helga followed Arnold's line of sight and finally saw what held his attention. Unnoticed by Arnold, her hand slowly formed a death grip around her water glass.

_"Lila!"_ She hissed. If Arnold heard this, he didn't show it. Helga roughly pushed her chair back, making a sharp grating noise. Blue eyes flaming, she locked gazes with Arnold.

"Did she stand you up?!" Helga bellowed. She shot a finger in Lila's direction. Arnold was startled. He had never seen this sort of reaction from Helga before. He had never seen her lose it because of a hurt inflicted on another person. Arnold's chest tightened once again. His mouth refused to work.

"I'll kill her!" Helga rasped. She drained the remnants of her water glass in one violent gulp. She then, glass in hand, drew her arm back with the full intention of breaking her glass against the table to create a sharp, makeshift knife.

"Helga no!" Arnold bounded over to Helga before she could make her knife and grasped her by the shoulders. Helga gave the football-headed boy a murderous look. "Helga you can't kill Lila!" Arnold exclaimed. The intensity in Helga's eyes lessened as she frowned at Arnold.

"Sure I can Arnold. Once I forge my glass dagger here, all it's gonna take is one quick stick in the jugular. Or maybe in the gut, just to make her suffer." A nasty form of glee lit Helga's features.

"Helga, stop it!" Carefully, Arnold took the water glass from Helga's hand and set it back down on the table. "I appreciate your concern Helga, but I don't want you to kill Lila." Helga face hardened for a brief moment, and then softened. She fell back on her chair with a 'hmph.'

"Alright, alright, I won't kill Lila."

"Thank you Helga," Arnold said with a smile. He returned to his own chair, sat, and folded his hands on the table.

"Can I at least injure her?"

"Helg_a._"

"At lease let me slice off that stupid braid of hers. She won't even feel a thing." Wordlessly, Arnold shook his head. Helga snorted. "Fine footballhead, I won't do anything to your precious little _Lila_."

"Actually Helga, I don't think Lila ever has been or ever will be mine." His eyes flicked to the side, trying to avoid staring at anything. Helga huffed in frustration.

"Why do you say that footballhead? I thought she agreed to go out with you today."

"That's what I thought. I just…" Arnold brushed a hand worriedly through his long, flaxen hair. His fist then hit the table in a rare outburst of anger. "I should have seen this coming! I don't know why I believed that Lila would ever like-me, like-me. Arnold silently fumed to himself over this last thought, temple resting against his hand, the midline between his brows creasing. Helga was silent herself for a moment. When she spoke up again, her voice was much more soothing.

"Oh come on footballhead," she said. This time, the name footballhead sounded more like a term of endearment. "Don't get all hung up over old redhead over there. You're still a cool guy." At this, Arnold gaze met Helga's. He cocked an eyebrow.

"_You're_ calling _me_ a cool guy Helga?" Helga stilled for a second before shrugging her shoulders in a detached, uncaring sort of way.

"Yeah I guess, just don't let it go to your head." Helga tucked her chin under her own hand and inspected the people seated at the surrounding tables. Arnold felt a great weight fall from his chest. He didn't understand it, but somehow Helga managed to make his troubles seem small and far away. _And not for the first time_, he mused reflectively.

"Well I guess if you tell me I'm a cool guy Helga, then I shouldn't worry about it." Again, Helga was indifferent. Arnold knew better. Helga meant it; she just didn't want him to know that she meant it. Or maybe that was wrong too. Maybe, Helga-

"Alright, food's here!" Arnold saw Jacques heading toward their table carrying a tray loaded with two identical plates. On the plates were lumpy pink shapes. Arnold's stomach churned slightly. What was it again that Helga had ordered?

"Here you are sir," Jacques said, setting one of the plates in front of Arnold. He then reached over and set the other in front of Helga.

"And you madame-moiselle." Jacques straightened and regarded the two preteens for a brief moment. He was smiling proudly, like he had prepared the dishes himself. "Bon appetit." He turned and walked away, tailcoats flapping behind him.

"Man I've been waiting all year for this," Arnold heard Helga say. The blonde finished tying her napkin into a bib and attacked her plate with disturbing ferocity. For the next thirty seconds, all that could be heard from the Pataki girl was silver clanking, ravenous chewing, and the occasional belch. She only stopped her feasting to look up at Arnold, who hadn't touched his food. Instead, he was staring strangely at her. Helga's cheeks pinked momentarily.

"Arentcha hungry footballhead," Helga said, mouth full of the pink stuff. Arnold's stomach churned again. Very delicately, he plucked a forkful of the lumpy material from his plate and placed it in his mouth. He chewed on it tentatively. A small smile formed on his lips.

"Hey, this isn't that bad." Arnold swallowed. "What did you order again?" Helga immediately began choking. After a few slaps on the back from Arnold, she managed to hack up one of the pink lumps into her bib. She removed the bib and replaced it on her lap.

"It's some kind of scrambled egg covered in…Parisian drippings gravy. That's what…makes it pink."

"Oh," Arnold said, setting back down in his seat. He examined his dinner plate carefully. A memory hit him very suddenly and completely. "Hey, I think this looks kind of familiar."

"Whaddyou mean?!" Helga said quickly. Arnold's eyes lit up and locked in with Helga's. The two, blue sapphires reflected utter terror.

"I remember! The last time I ate in this restaurant, the person I was with ordered this plate. Then…wait a minute, Helga, didn't you say that you were waiting all year for this?" Helga's sapphire eyes promptly tripled in size. Trying to think of something to do or say, she shoveled as much of the cat brains and eggs into her mouth as would fit.

"Yeah Helga, you did say that! Did you come here to the Chez Paris last year?" Helga tried to stuff more food into her mouth, but there simply wasn't room. "Wait, did you come on Valentine's Day?!" Helga froze. Inside, her heart was beating like a car piston, and the phrase 'Valentine's Day' repeated itself over and over.

"If you did, then maybe you saw my French pen pal Cecile!" Silence. Relief flooded through Helga Pataki's veins. She sat still for a few more seconds, a cozy, fuzzy feeling in her stomach. Now she had to find a way to swallow all the food crammed between her cheeks.

"Oh, I'm sorry, your mouth is full," Arnold said. Helga nodded good-naturedly. She looked for her water glass but then remembered that she had finished it. She searched the patio for a server but found no one in sight.

"Want mine?" Arnold offered. _'Want mine,' the little boy said, proffering his graham crackers_. "I haven't touched it." Helga shook off the memory and nodded. Arnold slid his water glass into Helga's open hand. The blonde raised the glass, opened her lips a tiny crack (for fear opening them more would let some of the food escape) and took a sip. It wasn't enough. Fear raced through Helga. Arnold noticed this for a moment before obscuring his face with his napkin and sneezing. Helga instantly spat out some of her food onto her plate and mixed it around with her fork, so Arnold wouldn't notice. She brought the water glass up to her lips again and held it there until Arnold (who sneezed a second time) lowered his napkin.

"Boy, I don't know what came over me," Arnold said. "Did that water help you?"

"Yep, it sure did the trick." Helga missed the brief smile that flitted across Arnold's features. "So…" Helga said. "What were we talking about again?" Her question for some reason seemed to break Arnold's concentration.

"Huh. Oh yeah, Cecile! You remember last year how our class exchanged letters with foreign pen pals?" Helga nodded her head knowingly.

"Well, last year my pen pal from France Cecile came to visit and we ate here. Only…" Helga's heart rate picked up. Any silence from Arnold on that subject was potentially lethal.

"Only what Arnold?" Helga asked. Arnold was frowning.

"Only, she wasn't actually my pen pal." Helga's nerves cooled. The footballhead didn't know anything. She now felt much more at ease.

"Well if she wasn't your pen pal, then who _was _she footballhead?!" Arnold's frown deepened.

"I don't know. I mean, she _pretended_ to be the real Cecile, but she wasn't. We were kind of in the middle of an argument when the real Cecile showed up. And then Gerald showed up and he went off with the real Cecile, leaving me and the fake Cecile behind."

"Yeah, and what did you do?"

"I asked her who she was, but she said she couldn't tell me. And then…" In spite of herself, Helga could not hold her tongue.

"And then _what_?!"

"And then she left her shoe behind. Just a red one, with a heel. Sometimes I wonder whether it was an accident or if she did it on purpose."

"Why would _anyone_ leave a shoe behind on purpose?" Arnold scratched his blonde hair thoughtfully.

"I dunno. Maybe she wanted me to have something to remember her by." Helga crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, appearing uninterested.

"This girl certainly has you caught up in a knot footballhead. Sounds to me like you've given a lot of thought to this chick, considering you only met once."

"What's wrong with that?" Arnold demanded, sounding a bit angry. "You've never even met her Helga. You don't know what she was like."

"Oh yeah, what was she like?" Arnold hesitated before answering. He let his memory pool fill, allowed himself to drink in the feelings, the sight of Cecile's soft blonde hair, the slenderness of her fingers, the beautiful, beautiful color of her ocean blue eyes. He shuddered, amazed at how poetic and adult those memories felt. When he spoke, he did so slowly.

"She was just…amazing. She was pretty, I mean, she was more than pretty, she was beautiful. And we…just clicked. I never felt anything like it." Helga's gaze quickly became tinged with sarcasm.

"Arnold, you do realize you're a ten-year old boy, right?"

"Yeah, so?" Helga shrugged.

"I don't know, your feelings just sound a little advanced." Helga's eyebrows furrowed. She stuck her index finger at him. "You're not reading _romance _novels are you?!"

"No!" Arnold asserted. "What's wrong with my feelings?" He clapped a hand to his chest. "I felt something special that night Helga. I don't know exactly what it was, but I know that it was special and that that's how things are supposed to feel!"

"Supposed to feel during what?" Arnold's cheeks reddened. His gaze lowered to his dish as he spun around its contents with his fork.

"You know…when a guy…meets a girl…and they…_like_ each other." A smile widened on Helga's face.

"Like how you want things to be with L_i_la?" A little color went out of Arnold's face.

"Yeah. Except now I know that things can never be that way with Lila, and…with Cecile, things were the way they were supposed to be."

"So what, are you in love with the girl or something?" Arnold quickly shook his head.

"No, I mean, I can't be in love with her; I don't know her well enough. All I know is that I felt something special from her and I don't know what it is."

"Yes, I know, you already said that."

"Well it's true." Helga pondered this last statement for a moment.

"Well then, what are you going to do about it?"

"Do about what?"

"About your hat. No footballhead, doi, about this girl?!" Arnold flung his arms out at his sides.

"I don't know Helga, what am I supposed to do?"

"Can't you track her down or something?" Arnold gripped the sides of hair.

"How am I going to do that?! All I have is that one red shoe, I don't know anything else about her."

"Well then, I guess you're stuck!" Arnold and Helga both stared at their plates for a long pause. Each of them was wrapped up in their own thoughts, one trying to figure out a riddle, the other trying to figure out where to guide the conversation to next. During this pause, Jacques the waiter came to the table.

"Eez there anything else ah can provide for mah most wonderful guests theese evening?" The two blondes looked up to the Frenchman and then to each other.

"I think we're all set Jacques," Arnold said with a smile. "Can we have the bill please?" Jacques however had something else on his mind.

"But mah dear Monsieur, surely you cannot walk a-way from theese beautiful banquet without having one of our lovely deserts." Arnold slowly shook his head.

"No thank you Jacques, I think this is all I can afford." Helga was about to open her mouth when Jacques replied:

"Well, ah am not supposed to do theese, but since Monsieur and Madame de moiselle have been such fahn guests, Jacques will thwow in a complimentary ice-cweam dessert."

"Thank you Jacques, but-"

"No," Jacques said, sticking up his nose in a stuffy manner. "Jacques will not take no for an answer. Ah will come back with your bill and your ice-cweam." Jacques spun on his heel and disappeared into the restaurant. Arnold and Helga glanced at each other. For some reason now, both felt slightly self-conscious in the other's presence.

"Well, thanks for having dinner with me Helga," Arnold said. "I don't think I would have had a very good night if you hadn't been here." Helga dismissed Arnold's comment with a wave of her hand.

"Aw, no sweat footballhead. Lucky for you, Bob has boring business dinners." Arnold laughed a little here. Helga's insides turned to mush. She loved listening to Arnold laugh. But when Arnold didn't stop laughing, she grew concerned. "What's so funny?" Arnold wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his finger.

"Nothing. I was just remembering when Cecile ordered that…what was this dish again?"

"Uh, Parisian scrambled eggs."

"Yeah, the scrambled eggs, she got really sick." Helga did her best to remain nonchalant.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Arnold said, laughing. "I think she thought that they cooked them with cat brains or something really gross like that." Helga gulped nervously. "I don't know where she heard such a crazy idea." Helga tugged on a shoulder strap of her pink dress.

"Yeah, heh-heh, that Cecile must have some wild imagination."

"Yeah, if I ever see her again, I'll have to tell her to order something else." Arnold gazed expectantly at Helga, but found her quietly finishing the remainder of her meal. Suddenly, Helga seemed very, very shy.

"I dunno Arnold," Helga said in an unusually subdued tone. "Maybe, since she last ate it, it grew on her.

* * *

"Whoee, now that's what I call a sundae!" Helga thrust her napkin all over her face to wipe off a fair amount of French vanilla ice cream and hot fudge sauce. On the other side of the table, Arnold mirrored her. When he set his napkin down, he looked at Helga for a few seconds longer than he had meant to. He couldn't help but feel that there was something he was missing.

"Yeah, that was pretty good," Arnold said, shrugging off that strange sentiment. He slid down in his seat a little, content. Arnold had tried arguing with Jacques about paying for the desert when he came to pick up their bill, but once again the Frenchman declined. The waiter then whisked away back into the restaurant, only saying "'Appy Valentines Day," before vanishing from sight. Arnold made a mental to repay Jacques one day. He didn't share this with Helga.

"Well footballhead…" Helga said, checking the time on her cell-phone. Arnold peered down at the wristwatch, which had once belonged to his grandpa. _8:55_. The night had flown by.

"Have to go?" Arnold said. Helga made a sour face.

"Yeah, Bob should be finishing up right about now. Better get there before he finds me missing or he'll have a cow." Arnold neglected to ask why Helga's father wouldn't have noticed her missing earlier. _Some things are better left unasked_, he thought.

"Okay Helga, then I guess–"

"Oh Arnold!" The conversation was abruptly interrupted by a red-haired girl with two cheeks of symmetrical freckles and a long, uncut braid. Lila. Arnold froze, although he was unaware of it. "I'm ever so sorry Arnold. I ran into one of my friends, Neal, and I completely lost track of time. I hope you'll forgive me Arnold, I feel oh so stupid." Arnold fastened his gaze on the tabletop. He just couldn't bring himself to face Lila, not now, maybe never again. For some crazy reason, while he sat there unable to look at Lila, he found himself wishing that Helga was his best friend in the entire world. Helga, however, had other things on her mind.

"One more _syllable_ out of you Freckles and you'll be swimmin' with the fishes!" Helga had one foot propped on her chair, lips curled in an ugly snarl and prepared to pounce at any moment. Fear zapped tangibly into Lila's face. Unintentionally, she set one foot back. "Good," Helga prodded sarcastically. "Now another eighty-thousand steps back and you'll be half the distance needed to prevent me from ripping you in _two_!" Lila looked desperately to Arnold, but found that despite Helga's violent threats, the footballheaded boy was still staring angrily at the tabletop. It was then that she realized how deeply she had wounded the boy with the cornflower hair. A pain stabbed her heart.

"You have five seconds." Lila took another step backwards.

"Helga, I'm so sorry." Another step backwards for Lila, one step forwards for Helga.

"Say it to him Red! Four seconds!" Another step.

"Arnold, I'm sorry." Another step.

"Three seconds!" Another step.

"Helga, I'm oh so certain–"

"Two seconds!" Another step.

"I'm oh so certain that if I had more time–"

"One second!" Another step

"!"

"TIME!"

"Helga, what are you… please, don't – OW! That's _ever_ so painful!"

"Now say you're sorry!"

"Let go of my braid!"

"I said 'say you're sorry'!"

"Let go Helga, let – OW!"

"Say sorry!"

"Let! Me! G–" A horrible ripping sound came from the direction of the two wrangling girls. Arnold, who had gotten out of his chair and was just about to stop the fight, tried to get a better look at what had caused the sound. He noticed Jacques the waiter to his right, watching the unfolding scene with a growing smirk. Arnold craned his neck to peek above Helga's shoulder. His eyes widened. In Helga's hands was Lila's long, shiny, _red_ braid. In the struggle, Helga had ripped it off.

Lila's mouth was gaping wide open, her eyes unbelieving. Tears shimmered, but refused to fall. The red-haired girl's upper lip trembled. Helga, whose face was hidden from Arnold, was in a state of utter shock. The entire dinner crowd on the patio had grown silent.

A piercing shriek cut through the air. Lila Sawyer ripped her braid from Helga Pataki's grasp and ran out of the restaurant, screaming bloody murder. Arnold, Helga, Jacques the waiter, and all the other diners stood and sat perfectly still until several seconds after the screaming redhead had fled the scene. Slowly, the clanking of silverware and the steady, monotonous din of conversation resumed. Arnold and Helga stood next to each other, absorbing what had just happened. Oddly, it was Arnold who broke the ice, and with a question he had considered a few minutes previously.

"So, same time next year?"

And that's how it started.

**Disclaimer - I do not own Hey Arnold, it characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.**


End file.
